To Love a Lowly Franchise

Despite the Years of Heartbreak, Why We Fight For the Teams We do.

Photo: Ricky Stewart (Getty)— Follow @graceball.sub on IG for more graphics

When Aaron Rodgers sat back down on the MetLife Stadium ground, you could feel the air let out of the room. It's never good when they sit back down. My sisters, my Dad and I watched in disbelief. The blue light from the TV reflected off our faces as we watched our supposed savior fall from grace before our eyes. I didn’t blink for a minute as thoughts raced through my head. The inconceivable one crept in— the fear that even thinking it would jinx it —there’s no way what could have happened just happened.

The stadium that just minutes ago you could feel through the screen, could now have held mass in it— and a funeral would have been fitting.

15 minutes earlier Rodgers had stepped onto the field into one of the most charged atmospheres in Jets history. Prideful, he wore the green and white as he trotted out onto the field holding the American flag. It was New York’s hardest day of the year. A day filled with emotion so potent it seeped into the seats of the stadium and rang through the air so true you could feel it through TV screens across the Hudson. The flashlights lit up the 80,000 seats like stars— 80,000 wishes of a new Jets future. Red fireworks blasted off as Rodgers and Randall Cobb linked arms on the sidelines, closed their eyes, and looked as though they could feel the national anthem echoing throughout the stadium in their bones. 

The Jets were never going to lose that night, but 4 snaps in, it all felt different.

The look of defeat in Rodgers eyes…he knew that was it. The rest of us watched, hoped, that when he stood up it would be to play the next snap, but he never took another the whole season.

In the back of every Jets fan’s head, we all collectively felt, it was always too good to be true.

Photo: Charles Wenzelberg (New York Post)

See life as a Jets fan hasn’t gone to plan since winning Super Bowl III in 1969. They’ve only made the playoffs 13 times since then. In 55 years, 13 times. There are only 5 teams with less appearances, and only 1, the Cardinals, who were incorporated as a franchise before the Jets. Yet we stand, 80,000 of us that night, still hoping that our fate can change.

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Woody Johnson is doing his best. He cares about the team, deeply it appears, and is continuously trying his hardest to make this franchise successful. I genuinely believe he wants this team to be good. I know he sees the Tweets, hears the quips from the newspapers, and understands our frustrations. Yet, despite all his best efforts, something always seems to go wrong.

Johnson acquired the team in January of 2000 and paid 635 million dollars to do so. It was the highest price ever paid for a New York sports franchise at the time. Since his acquisition the team has made the playoffs 6 times and gone 6-6 in the postseason. Their last appearance was in 2010, bestowing the Jets the begrudging title of the longest playoff drought in North American sports.

Their drought is not for lack of trying, but rather something that can only be explained by fans and naysayers alike as “the same old Jets”.

Take for instance, Week 17 of the 2015-2016 season, the Jets were on a 5 game win streak, beating the Patriots in OT controversially the week prior, and were heading into Buffalo needing a win to clinch a playoff berth. Instead, former Jets head coach Rex Ryan and his newly minted Bills defense intercepted Ryan Fitzpatricks last 3 possessions, taking away any chance the Jets had to seal their own fate, and losing 17-22.

Or in 2022-2023, when the Jets had the opportunity to break their 12 year playoff drought after starting the season 7-4, and went on to lose their last 6 games in a row to miss the postseason yet again.

And that's just the stuff on the field.

Throughout Johnson’s tenure he has gone through 6 different general managers. Only Mike Tannenbaum (and Bill Parcells with his brief time with the team) went above .500. The likes of Terry Bradway, John Idzik, and Mike Maccagnan were all unsuccessful for a myriad of reasons. From coaching hires to coaching fires, questionable roster construction through baffling draft picks and overpriced aging free agents, none of them had been able to put together a 53 man roster worthy of late January football.

Bear in mind the drafting of Quinton Couples over Chandler Jones, Santana Moss over Steve Hutchinson, signing Trumaine Johnson for 72.5 million dollars or the 31 million dollars shelled out for Sam Cowart, this is just the tip of the iceberg.

Photo: Fireman Ed (Via NJ.com / Twitter)

Johnson even sought out the consultations of former Washington and Houston general manager Charley Casserly for John Idzik’s replacement. This led them to Mike Maccaganan, who worked with Casserly during his time with the (then) Redskins and Texans. Maccagnan went on to have a 31-49 record with the team and during his time as Jets GM passed on the likes of Patrick Mahomes II and Christian McCaffery, took Christian Hackenberg in the 2016 NFL draft, did not draft a single offensive lineman above the 4th round throughout his entire tenure, and, as a parting gift, signed a washed up Le’Veon Bell to a 4 year 52.5 million dollar contract 2 months before being fired. He scored just 3 touchdowns with the Jets.

The list goes on.

The mis-hirings and devastatingly disappointing seasons decade after decade can be traced to years before Johnson, in fact, the history of the team somehow becomes even worse. Let us not forget that Peyton Manning chose to stay at Tennessee for his senior season in 1998 rather than drafted by the Jets with the number 1 overall pick. To make things worse, the Jets traded the pick to the Rams who drafted 7x Pro Bowler, 3x All Pro, Hall of Fame left tackle Orlando Pace instead.

Or, that Bill Belichick, resigned on a napkin the day after being promoted to head coach in 2000, took the job at their biggest rival instead, and went on to win 6 Super Bowls with them.

And of course, Vinnie Testeverde’s 1999 achilles tear. Week 1, versus the New England Patriots, 24 years and 1 day apart from Aaron Rodgers. The hopes of teams so promising crushed like a mere ant in the span of seconds.

An inexplicable, almost curse-like cloud hangs over this franchise, why would anyone in their right mind root for them?

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Photo: Mike Hughes

It is innately human to cling to something you’ve grown up with. From the beginning you’ve known this thing has been there for it all since the start. You’re not even taught to fall in love, it just happens through the time you share, the emotions you feel, and the memories you create together. Oh so many memories—mostly painful, but the good ones, the good ones wash all the bad ones away like a baptism. They almost make you forget everything they’ve put you through.

To love a lowly franchise is to be caught in a civil war. Owner vs fans, general manager vs players, local (and national if they care) media vs both of them. Their intentions are all the same, winning and peace—peace through winning— yet never can we get there, civil enough to reach both at the same time.

So to love a lowly franchise is to be in the trenches, taking shrapnel from the newspaper you pay to read and the people that claim they are your friends and family. On the street you’ll even get stopped when wearing gear, “why can’t this team do anything right?”, solace in frustration and disappointment.

Yet, you wear the hat, you buy the jersey, you watch the team. You can’t not watch the team. They pull you in, like a toxic relationship you’ve weaved your way in and out of, convincing yourself that maybe this time, they’ve truly changed.

In a sense you wear their logo as a badge of honor, like one of the “I survived the Tower of Terror” shirts they sell at Disney World. I’ve selected this team with decades of losing records and mortifying performances on purpose, yet I wear them with pride, I take it on the chin, you think you can kick me down? I dare you— I’m a Jets fan.

To love a lowly franchise is to hope that your loyalty, pride, and allegiance will pay off. One day you’ll get to look that person in the eye that jeered at you all those years for being a fan of the team that you are and give them the crisp satisfaction of hearing 4 of the best words in the English language strung together in the most eloquent fashion — “I told you so”. But that won't even be the best part, the best part is the feeling you will get for being there the whole time, the ups and downs, the lefts and rights, the horrible signings and draft picks, the disastrous GM’s and quarterbacks. You stayed, you saw it through. You felt deep down that your gamble would pay off.

And nothing, nothing, will feel more satisfying than that win.

Photo: Mike Stobe (Getty)